Blue gill in the lake of my childhood <br />Underneath the burning sugarcane of my childhood <br />Which I never truly saw: <br />Nor were there stolen bicycles in the canal, <br />Or rabbits holes to housewives bedrooms <br />I could not even interpret what I thought of you <br />Lost in the scars and sweats over all of <br />Those meandering afternoons the visions of <br />A Cyclops introduced to the kaleidoscope you <br />Can tell he is enamored and his senses <br />Have been turned it pigs, and yet <br />The beautiful ocean opens all around him like <br />A flower the rest of the heroes escape into <br />Her classes- and he doesn’t even care.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-beautiful-ocean-2/
